


This hotel is my Atlantis

by InkRanOut



Category: Hazbin Hotel (Web Series)
Genre: (not exactly but just to be on the safe side), Abuse, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Canon-Typical Behavior, Drug Addiction, Drugs, Gen, Hurt Angel Dust (Hazbin Hotel), Hurt/Comfort, Music Video: Addict (Hazbin Hotel), POV Third Person Limited, Rape Aftermath, Rape/Non-con Elements, Victim Blaming, Whump, canon-typical valentino being awful and angel suffering because of him, unfair treatment
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-23
Updated: 2020-08-23
Packaged: 2021-03-07 00:13:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,437
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26057791
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/InkRanOut/pseuds/InkRanOut
Summary: The Happy Hotel is the best thing that’s happened to Angel in a long time. It might sound incredibly sad, but that’s only because it is.When he’s finally standing in front of Valentino’s too-tall door, he hesitates.Angel breaks the rules one too many times. Then he tries to fix things, but it just might be too late...One would think that he'd be used to things not working out, by now.
Relationships: Angel Dust & Charlie Magne, Angel Dust & Fat Nuggets (Hazbin Hotel), Angel Dust & Vaggie (Hazbin Hotel), Charlie Magne/Vaggie
Comments: 16
Kudos: 48





	1. Despite having overdosed

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi there! Thanks for clicking on my work! <3
> 
> Phew! It's been ages (= about ten months) since I last posted anything here! I wouldn't say this one is anything special, but I wrote it, so. Here you go, I guess!
> 
> The work title & chapter titles are all lyrics from the music video 'Addict'.
> 
> Please make sure you've read the tags before proceeding!

It’s hilarious to make Vaggie mad. Perhaps it’s because she’s so small and gets _so angry_.

She clenches her fists, or hits the floor with her foot, or shoves an accusing finger in Angel Dust’s face, and then screams at him. _“You broke the curfew by five hours, and came back to the hotel reeking of sex and alcohol_ _– a_ _nd you’d taken something again, I could tell! Next time, I swear I’m not gonna let you in!”_

She always lets him in. Sometimes it takes a bit more convincing that others, but Angel doesn’t care – Charlie’s the one doing the convincing, not him. He always walks in with his head held high, and it’s pretty fun to watch Vaggie lose her mind right there at the hotel lobby.

Angel did all of those things that he was being yelled at for, of course. He was feeling pretty melancholy that night, so he only took the good-looking Johns. It took him twice as long to make the usual money, but it was one of the good nights. He got to enjoy himself, which is pretty rare nowadays. Get used to doing something, it becomes dull; make it your day (or night) job, it turns into a chore.

Charlie, of course, is a dearie and allows him to spend the night out every now and then, but ‘every now and then’ is not good enough for Valentino’s favorite whore. What he makes at the studio and performances alone cannot be covering it, or Valentino wouldn’t be so unhappy with him lately.

He supposes he could tell Charlie, but he doesn’t want to have that sort of conversation with her. About his boss. Charlie is a sweetheart and all, but Angel can’t see her taking this seriously – can’t imagine she’d understand. Besides, anything sex-related clearly makes her uncomfortable, so Angel is actually doing her a favor by not bringing it up. They are both winners here.

It’s not like there’s anything keeping him from doing as he pleases. The curfew is more of a friendly suggestion at this point, because Vaggie never makes good on her threats, and Charlie never runs out of patience.

Well, until she does.

It’s the third day in a row that Angel has broken the curfew, and the third time this week that he has let a client share their stash with him, and he returns to the hotel with a blissed-out smile to rival that of the Radio Demon’s.

But it’s not Vaggie waiting for him when he arrives – it’s Charlie, and Angel is kind of relieved to see her. He’s in no state to argue, or even enjoy the way Vaggie looks at him like she wants to murder him with her bare hands.

“Hey, Charlie,” he greets her, straightening up. He doesn’t like it very much when he comes here looking like a mess and Charlie gets all quiet and fidgety.

It seems that this isn’t one of her good days. It’s hard to tell because of the way everything is so bright and wobbly, but Charlie’s look of disappointment seems more… disappointed than usual. He’s getting a bad feeling.

“Angel, can we talk?” she asks.

Angel raises a hand to scratch his head, not quite looking at her. “Look, I’m sorry I broke the curfew… can’t we do this tomorrow? Head hurts like a bitch.”

“It’s important,” Charlie says, quietly, a little urgently. “I only need a minute.”

“Ugh, fine.”

“Thank you.” Charlie gestures at one of the couches in the lobby, and Angel sits down without a word. She takes a seat across from him, palms on her knees, looking restless. “So, uhm. You broke the curfew,” she starts, wincing, “and several of the hotel’s rules… again…”

Angel _tsks_ without really meaning to. “I said I was sorry,” he says, and stops himself. Charlie definitely doesn’t seem happy with him tonight, so maybe he should tone it down. Stop being so irritable. _Must be the fucking drugs._ If he were back in the world of the living, Angel wouldn’t even be able to hold a conversation right now, but turns out that drugs lose their intensity once you die. Many things do. “Boss wants to see me tomorrow, but it won’t happen again after that. Promise.”

It _will_ happen again, and Angel knows it. As soon as Charlie goes back to being awfully patient with him, he’s going to get right back to taking advantage of her kindness. Not _exploiting_ her, just… making the most of her naivety.

Maybe exploiting her a little bit.

“Angel…” Charlie closes her eyes, and Angel gets the feeling that he’s not going to like whatever she’s about to say. “I’m sorry, I just can’t do this anymore. I– I already felt like enough of a joke before all this, and…” Her voice breaks, and she clenches her hands in her lap. “I want to help you, but you’re not trying to help yourself.”

Angel stares at her.

_This is new._

He knows that sometimes he makes Charlie feel like a total failure, to put it nicely – and most of the time, it’s not even intentional. He just says the words as they pop up in his head, and then sees Charlie’s expression and realizes that what he said might’ve been a little insensitive. By then, it’s too late. But it doesn’t really matter, because Charlie goes back to acting like everything’s glitter and rainbows in thirty minutes, tops. She doesn’t seem to take anything personally, or hold any grudges.

But maybe she does, after all. Because she’s kind of threatening to kick him out right now.

“I’ll try. Really,” Angel insists. “This is all ‘cause I broke the curfew, yeah? It won’t happen again. Starting the day after tomorrow, I’ll be here by midnight. Eleven fifty-nine, even!”

“Not the day after tomorrow, Angel,” Charlie murmurs, shaking her head sadly. “Be here by twelve tomorrow. Or maybe we could all use a break from this… hotel business.”

_Ah, but think of all the people you’_ _d_ _be leaving without a home!_ Angel bites back the unnecessary comment. He watches in silence as Charlie gets up and walks away, looking even more tired than when the conversation started.

This has never happened before. Is it just that he caught her in a bad mood, or has Charlie finally snapped? Finally gotten sick of him making a public joke of her dream? Has Angel fucked with her girlfriend one too many times? Did she simply realize that he isn’t worth all this trouble?

Whatever her reason is, Angel has a feeling that she meant what she said, and the possibility of losing his place in the hotel breaks through the fog in his head and hits him like one of his boss’ slaps.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! If you enjoyed the first chapter, please leave a comment and let me know! <3
> 
> For once in my life I've written ahead before posting, so the next update should be fairly soon \o/


	2. Looking awesome, feeling helpless

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, chapter two! Titled after my favorite lyric from Addict ^0^
> 
> Warning: this chapter contains non-graphic rape/non-con, most of which is implied, but still there. And Valentino, who is probably a warning on his own.

When he’s finally standing in front of Valentino’s too-tall door, he hesitates.

The Happy Hotel is the best thing that’s happened to Angel in a long time. It might sound incredibly sad, but that’s only because it is.

His life has sucked for a while now, but he got used to it – got over it. It is liberating, in a way, to let go of hope; Angel was glad he didn’t have to lie to himself anymore. He lived in a small but adequate apartment that was close to the studio (chosen by Valentino), had a job that suited him and was about as stable as it gets around here (working for Valentino), and only had to live through the occasional one-on-one with Valentino a couple times a week (with Valentino). It wasn’t ideal, but he made it work.

Then the Princess of Hell offered to give him a free room in an all but empty hotel (away from Valentino), for as long as he took part in her little pet project, and it was so good he almost didn’t trust it. And even if he wouldn’t admit it in front of the princess, her Happy Hotel gave him a bit of hope, so rare it was almost foreign to him. He was almost happy during his time there. (Away from Valentino.)

He’s not ready to go back to the way things were. He feels a little safe, here. It might be stupid, but it’s true, and he’ll do himself a favor and be honest, just this once.

That’s why he can’t fuck this up. All he has to do is make it back to the hotel on time tonight. Valentino might be a bit of an asshole, but he’ll understand. (He won’t.) He might. He’ll see that it’s urgent and stop thinking with his cock, for once in his un-life. It’s worth a shot.

Angel steels himself and knocks on the door of Valentino’s office, pushing it open without waiting for permission. Valentino is where he usually is, sitting behind his desk, body relaxed. He’s got a wad of cash in two of his hands, counting it lazily, and Angel can hear movement coming from under the desk.

While he waits, silently, for Valentino to finish counting and acknowledge him, Angel looks around, taking in all the things that have changed in the few days that he hasn’t been here. There’s a new carpet, heavy and colorful, covered in red hearts and curved, purple lines; custom-made, for sure. (Valentino did mention wanting to replace the old one.) There’s a new potted plant by the window; red tulips, where the daffodils used to be. There’s a black bookcase that covers an entire wall at his left, and while that’s been there for over a month, the objects on it have increased.

And of course, there’s the blood-red, wooden chest of sex toys by the desk that Angel doesn’t let his eyes linger on. Right next to it, he spots a fluffy, brown tail peeking out from one side of the desk that he already knows belongs to Summer, Valentino’s lap cat (in the most literal sense).

Valentino finishes counting and shoves the money in a drawer. “Angie Baby,” he says, affectionately, his mouth stretching wide as he grins. One of his lower arms pats somewhere between his legs. “He’ll take it from here, kitten.”

Summer raises her head just enough to glance at Angel, eyes half-lidded, expression utterly bored. She makes a sound between a whine and a meow and crawls away from the desk, movements accompanied by the soft tinkling of a bell. As he watches her go, Angel tries to remember the last time he heard her speak in anything but cat noises.

He lets that train of thought go as soon as the door closes and he hears the creaking of Valentino’s leather chair. By now, he’s learned not to step back when his boss approaches him, but it still takes some effort on his part. Angel manages not to shift, even as Valentino’s tall shadow engulfs him.

He’s wearing one of his casual robes, a black, silky one that clearly wasn’t made for covering. Angel can see everything that’s underneath, and he knows what comes next better than the prayers that his mother taught him as a child.

“Look, Val,” he starts, trying not to sound nervous. He has to be at the hotel by midnight. _‘I have to be at the hotel by midnight.’ Say it._ “I have to–”

“Now don’t be shy, Angel Cakes,” Valentino cuts him of, caressing a tuft of hair on Angel’s head. “Undress for Daddy.”

Two of Angel’s hands start working on his coat, automatically, while a third one tugs at his bow tie. “Listen, she– Charlie, uh, the Princess, you know her– she said she’ll kick me out if I break curfew tonight. So can we… can we keep this short?”

Valentino’s face falls, expression turning sour. Bad sign.

“She’ll– Just– Just for tonight, then she’ll forget about it,” Angel rambles on, trying to salvage the situation. “She’s an– a _huge_ airhead, so she’ll forget right away!”

He doesn’t mean all of it, but he’s long since stopped caring about words he says inside this room. Talking to Valentino is like throwing words into a void; they’re not supposed to come back to him. He’ll say whatever, as long as he feels desperate enough. Valentino probably knows that.

“The Princess said that she will kick you out?” Valentino says, quiet and unhappy. Angel nods once, trying not to think about Valentino’s hand, still tangled in his hair. “Maybe that’s for the best, don’t you think?”

No. _No_.

“I– I thought you didn’t mind?” Angel says, fidgeting. He’s pushing his luck and he knows it, but he has to say something – his room in the Happy Hotel, his safe space, is the one thing he can’t let be taken away with a smile on his face.

“I thought it might be a good idea to try giving you a bit of extra freedom,” Valentino says, voice low and harsh, “but I can see that your time there has only made you more insolent.” His tone softens, turns almost comforting as he continues, “she was going to throw you out eventually. She wants you to be good, but you’re a filthy slut. You don’t belong there.”

_I can learn to belong there._

“But wouldn’t it be better if I–”

“No sass,” Valentino says, silencing him with a long finger.

“I don’t _want_ to–”

Valentino’s grip on his hair finally grows painful, and Angel doesn’t flinch because he was waiting for this. He doesn’t know why he had to take it this far, to make Valentino angry with him when he was not. Proof that he fought, he supposes.

“That’s quite enough, Angel,” Valentino hisses, and Angel’s mouth finally closes. He has nothing more to say.

He feels one of Valentino’s hands press down on his shoulder, and he lets it guide him to his knees.

“I was planning on a quick fuck, but now I need to get back in the mood. Start with your mouth, yes?”

Angel knows that’s not true. Valentino is _always_ in the mood, and there’s proof of that right in Angel’s face. But that doesn’t matter. He’ll do as his boss tells him.

As he gets to work, he steals a glance at the heart-shaped clock on the wall. It’s still ten forty-four. Maybe he can make it to the hotel by twelve. All he needs to do is do his job well, finish this quickly. He thinks he can do that.

That is until Valentino grabs a fistful of his hair and starts setting the pace, and it becomes abundantly clear that he intends to drag this out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel like Valentino is the kind of person who is really devoted to the #aesthetic and keeps flowers around based on their meanings. (And then he forgets to water them and they die immediately.)
> 
> Would love to hear your thoughts! <3


End file.
